


Where I Belong

by embalmer56



Series: The Adventures of Baby Sherlock and Daddy Watson. [10]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Age Play, Angst, Angst and Feels, Bathing, Bedtimes, F/M, Gen, John isn't dealing with his feelings well, John's A+ Parenting, John's Jumpers, Non-Sexual Age Play, Post-Reichenbach, Sherlock Whump, Tags May Change, everything is a bit not good, nappies, smacking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-24
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-22 23:35:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6097603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/embalmer56/pseuds/embalmer56
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They say, home is where the heart is, with the heart as a lackluster metaphor for loved ones, or so some idiom that Sherlock has long deleted claims. But what if that heart has changed and there's no room left for Sherlock?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> unbeta'd - all mistakes are mine
> 
> Many thanks to the lovely @cyphernaut and @sadisticallysweet for helping me work through this headcanon.

“I do know how to change nappies, ya know.” Mary said, not turning from the stove.  Sherlock shifted uncomfortably in his seat, not taking his eyes from his microscope. “I’ve been a nurse for several years.”

Sherlock hummed noncommittally and switched slides. Mumm…Mary had spent the better part of the afternoon in the flat with him, cleaning up, fixing food, and chattering away. “You know, Daddy won’t be home for another half hour.”

Sherlock glanced up sharply at this before catching himself and returning to his slide. The flat was no longer Daddy’s home. Hadn’t been for more than two years. Daddy and M…Mary, lived in a quaint row house on the other side of the city. Sherlock had yet to be invited over.

“…and a rash on your bits could easily become infected. It would be terrible if your bottom got an infection.” She said, seemingly to no one.

Sherlock shifted again. He’d been wet for more than an hour. He’d put the padding on himself that morning in anticipation of Daddy coming to stay the night, but he hadn’t really thought about what would happen if he wet before Daddy actually showed up.

Mary gave a heavily put upon sigh before she turned off the hob and turned to face him, her arms crossed over her narrow chest. “If you’ll not allow me to change you, than you need to go change yourself.”

“Daddy…”

“Daddy isn’t going to want to change a dirty nappy the second he steps through the door, Sherlock.” Mary’s eyes and voice suddenly sharp.

Sherlock flinched at that. Of course. John being Daddy again was strictly on a trial basis. He could change his mind at any moment about wanting Sherlock this way. Sherlock knew that any slip, any behavior that John didn’t like, could bring this whole thing to an end.

“I’ll just…” Sherlock mumbled softly, edging out from behind the microscope and down the hallway, “be right back.”

He slipped into his room and shut the door behind him, flipping the lock on instinct. “Let me know if you need help!” Mary singsonged, the edge gone from her voice.

Sherlock stripped himself of his trousers and sodden nappy, cleaning himself up as best he could. He’d spent so long without nappies that he’d almost forgotten how to do it properly. He’d rarely been in charge of changing himself anyways, it had always been Daddy’s job.

He put a new nappy on the bed and laid on top of it. He got one side of tapes done when there was a loud knock at the bedroom door causing him to startle and knock his heels into the bedframe. Sherlock muffled a curse.

“How’s it going?”

“Good, fine. Be out in a sec.”

“Are you sure you don’t need help?” The door handle jiggled but didn’t give. “Sherlock?”

“Yes…I’m sure.” Sherlock quickly taped the other side, “Thank you.”

“Such a sweet boy when you put your mind to it.” Mary said, moving back into the kitchen to finish dinner.

Sherlock blushed as he tugged his trousers back on. If he wanted to keep Daddy than he’d need to do everything he could to please him, even if that meant taking on a Mummy he wasn’t sure he wanted.

Straightening his back and getting control of his shaky breathing, Sherlock popped the lock on the door and went back into the kitchen.  

Sherlock settled himself behind the microscope; he was almost at a breakthrough, he could feel it.  Upon returning to London, he’d immersed himself in cases from his website and experiments to keep himself from thinking too much about being on his own.

While on some level he’d known that John would be angry with him, he never imagined that Daddy wouldn’t immediately welcome him home.

Mary had begun to chatter again as soon as he’d entered the kitchen, explaining why they were having this particular pasta for dinner, something about a holiday she and John had shared at the very beginning of their romance, but Sherlock deftly tuned her out.

He glanced at his wristwatch, only 20 more minutes until Daddy was here. Maybe he could convince Daddy that he needed a bath. Or that he needed several stories before he’d be able to sleep. He hoped Daddy made good on his promise to let Sherlock sleep in the big bed with Daddy and Mu...Mary. Sherlock pushed down the nerves that had been making his belly ache all week. Concentrate on the experiment.  Behave.

Mary heard John come in before Sherlock did, going out onto the landing to greet him with a kiss. Sherlock tensed for a second, hearing their murmured conversation, before bounding out of his chair, sending it crashing to the floor.

“Daddy! Daddy! Daddy! The case! I solved the case!” Sherlock tried to show Daddy the murky contents of a Petri dish. “The wife, she…”

Daddy put a hand over the petri dish and firmly pushed it away from his face. “Sherlock, you need to clean that mess off the table so we can have dinner.” Sherlock worried his bottom lip between his teeth.

“The case…”

“Not now, Sherlock. Clear it away.” Daddy walked around him and went down the hallway to the loo. Sherlock’s eyes prickled. Cases were one of the only things that kept Daddy invested in their relationship. Sherlock knew he didn’t have much to offer if John was no longer interested in that.

“Will that keep if we put it in the fridge?” Mary said, placing a small hand on his wrist. Sherlock nodded blindly. It was fine. He was fine. He could do this. He was very clever and he could figure out how to make this work. He watched as Mary wrapped the petri dish is cling film and put it into the fridge.

“Move your microscope over there, Sherlock.” He carefully lifted the microscope and put it on the counter while Mary wiped down the table with cleanser. “Aw, see. This is nice. When was the last time the table was clean enough to eat off of?”

Sherlock shrugged. Not since he’d been home. And before, Daddy never seemed to mind eating at the table with the microscope on it. Mary handed him some napkins and flatware. “Set the table.” Sherlock set three places and then fidgeted with the napkins. Where should he sit? It seemed unlikely they’d want him in the middle, but if he chose the wrong end, Mary might sit next to him instead of Daddy. Would they be amenable to switching seats?

A swat to his padded bum caught his attention, startling him out of his thoughts. Daddy had the look on his face that meant that he’d called Sherlock’s name several times.

“Sit down, Pet. It’s time to eat.” John said, having already sat at the middle place setting. Sherlock flushed at the familiar nickname and eagerly obeyed.

Mary placed a plate of pasta in front of him. “Bon a petit.” She said with a wink. The greyish cream sauce had already begun to separate on his plate.  Sherlock worked not to grimace and glanced over at Daddy. Surely Daddy didn’t expect him to eat anything grey. But Daddy had tucked into his meal with gusto, taking large bites in between telling Mary about a regular patient from the clinic.

“And then she tried to insist that I give her a breast exam.”

 “For an intermittent cough?” Mary chuckled. “Just you wait, she’s building towards a pelvic exam.”

“Yes, well, as long as I’m allowed to keep my pants on for that.” John waggled his eyebrows at her, giggling.

Sherlock held very still as he watched them out of the corner of his vision. Not for the first time, it crossed his mind that this may have been a bad idea. It was one thing to be told that John was very happy in his new life, it was another entirely to have to watch.

“You haven’t even touched your food.” Mary said. Sherlock suddenly had two sets of eyes on him.

“I’m not hungry. My bell…stomach isn’t quite right.”

“That’s probably because you haven’t been eating regular meals.” Daddy said, his voice gruff. “You’re not leaving the table until half of your dinner is gone.”

 “Half?”

“You weren’t given that much and if Mummy went to all the trouble of cooking, surely you can…” John’s voice growing angrier with every word.

“John.” Mary said, touching his arm. Daddy let out a big sigh, his hand flexing in frustration.

“Just eat your dinner, Sherlock.” Daddy said, his voice gentler, but still rough.

Sherlock put a forkful of pasta into his mouth, chewing carefully. The heavy crème sauce didn’t agree with the fluttering in his belly, but he kept taking bites until his plate was nearly clean. He felt nauseous.

“Thank you for dinner, Mummy.”

“Of course. Why don’t you help me clear the dishes while Daddy runs you a bath?” Sherlock watched Daddy shot her an unreadable look but she merely raised an eyebrow at him and turned to the sink.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies that it's been so long, real life stinks. but on a high note, the next two chapters are complete, so expect them soon ;-)

Sherlock bounced around the kitchen, helping Mummy clean up as quickly as possible. A bit too quickly.

“Carefully, Sherlock.” Mary tutted, shooing him away from the sink where he’d hastily dropped their plates.

“Sorry.” Sherlock collected the napkin and silverware, and made to put the whole lot in the sink as well.

“Hang on, hang on!” Mary chuckled, pulled the soiled napkins out of the mess in Sherlock’s hands and tossing them in the bin. “Alright then. I think that’s tidied enough. Go on and get your bath.”

Sherlock dumped the silverware on top of the plates and bound towards the bathroom. He paused, considering Mummy for a moment. Having made up his mind he came back across the kitchen and put a shy kiss on her cheek before skittering out of the kitchen and down the hall.

Sherlock could hear the water running in the tub. He peeped through the crack of the door and saw Daddy sitting on the edge of the tub, his head in his hands. Bath time had always been their favorite and now Daddy looked like he was waiting for a stay of execution. Suddenly a bath seemed like a terrible idea. He didn’t need one. Had wanted one, sure, but he’d showered just that morning. And he hadn’t been small enough at supper to make a mess of himself so…

“Come on, Pet. Let’s get on with it.” John stood up and waved him into the room.

Sherlock, eager to be please, came close, “we don’t have to--”

“Get your clothes off.” John leaned down and turned off the water to the bath. There are no bubbles, no toys. The flannel John has selected was plain grey, even though there was a whole stack of clothes covered in cartoon characters. John knew this. He’d purchased most of them.

The nerves that have been eating at Sherlock’s belly all week, made his fingers tremble as he struggled to unbutton his shirt. Everything felt all wrong and it was probably his fault, but he didn’t know how.

John didn't say anything, his face unreadable as he reached up and pushed Sherlock’s hands away and began to undo the buttons on his shirt. John swiftly divested him of his shirt, trousers, and socks, dumping them in the hamper. His nappy was last. John had it off and in the trash in seconds. Sherlock had to fight the impulse to cling to the garment. He was as naked at he could get, both physically and mentally.

“Into the tub.”

Dipping his head Sherlock moved to obey Daddy, skirting around the man and getting into the tub as quickly as possible. Sherlock turned so that his back was mostly to the wall. Daddy knew about his scars, had seen them up close at his own insistence, but the rage that Sherlock could feel radiating off of Daddy whenever he saw the them scared Sherlock. He wasn't entirely sure who Daddy was mad at.

"This is going to be a quick bath. It's just about bedtime." John knelt beside the tub and put a few drops of Sherlock's expensive body wash onto the flannel. 

"Bed?" Sherlock asked tentatively, holding up an arm for Daddy to scrub.

John rolled his lips between his teeth and concentrated on washing Sherlock's arms and chest. 

Sherlock struggled to keep himself still when the flannel disappeared beneath the water. It was almost worse then being bathed by a stranger, at least then the heat in his cheeks would make sense. Daddy had been intimate with Sherlock's bits before but now Daddy was bathing him like it was a chore he didn't want to do and couldn't wait to be finished with.

 John pulled the plug and left it on the side of the tub."All done. Out," he announced as he wrung out the flannel and tossed it into the hamper with Sherlock's clothes.

Sherlock had been in the bath less than five minutes. Carefully standing up, Sherlock accepted the hand Daddy offered him and stepped out of the tub. Sherlock caught a glance of his rubbed pink skin in the mirror and quickly turned away. 

Daddy patted him dry with the same clinical detachment he'd had during bath time. Deciding Sherlock was dry enough he tossed the towel into the hamper and shooed Sherlock through the door to the nursery. Sherlock stood shivering next to the crib where a nappy and jams where laid out.

"Bed?"

"Yea, get onto the bed so we can get your nappy on."

"Tha..." Sherlock stopped himself midsentence. _Stop being bad and do what Daddy tells you_ , he scolded himself, crawling onto the bed. 

Daddy patted his hip and he lifted his bum automatically. Daddy didn't say a word to him as he finished taping up his nappy and wrangled Sherlock's long legs into a pair of striped henley jammie pants. The shirt was next and Sherlock did his best not to fuss when the material was pulled down over his face, it was his least favorite bit. Usually Daddy did a bit of fussing as a distraction but...

"I'm going to finish some emails and close up the flat for the night," John helped Sherlock up, and to the little boys complete surprise, guided him out of the nursery. "You go up and keep Mummy company. I'll be up in a bit." John swatted Sherlock towards the stairs. If he noticed how loose Sherlock's normally snug pajamas had become, he didn't mention it. 

Sherlock stood on the second step, his back to Daddy, wringing his hands. "I...can I..." 

"Can you what?"

"J-jumper?"

There were several moments of silence that filled Sherlock with dread. _Was that the limit of John's patience? He should never have asked for something that hadn't been offered to him. Stupid._  

Sherlock missed the shuffling of clothing behind him and startled, hard, when the navy jumper that Daddy had been wearing was shoved into his hands. "Go on then." Another swat sent him scuttling up the stairs, holding the still warm material to his face. Sherlock reminded himself to be grateful. This was more than he deserved and more than he’d even hoped to get.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come share babylock headcanons on my tumblr  
> http://squeakpigsrevenge.tumblr.com


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there be angst! be warned

The staircase was dim as Sherlock made his way up the stairs, dragging Daddy’s jumper behind him. The only light came from the open door of Da…the spare bedroom. He crept up to the landing and peeped around the door frame. Mummy was already in bed, reading a tablet.

“Quit lurking,” she said without glancing up. Sherlock tripped over his own feet coming into the room. He stood nervously at the end of the bed. He’d been so enamored with the idea of sleeping in the same bed as Daddy, he’d forgotten that it would mean also sleeping in the same bed as Mummy.

She glanced over the top of the tablet at him, “Aren’t you going to get in?” A smirk played at the corner of her lips. Sherlock crawled tentatively onto the end of the bed. “You’re shy now?” Mummy asked, putting the tablet in her lap.

Sherlock nodded slowly, sitting back on his haunches, as far from her as he could get.

“I’ve a surprise for you,” Mary said, her fingers moving furiously over the tablet before she turned it for him to see. “I’ve downloaded you some bedtime stories.” Sherlock looked at the dozens of titles she’d selected. He didn’t really like digital books, people got cross if you touched the pictures. He much preferred books made of paper, but he knew Daddy would insist he use his manners.

“Thank you,” he murmured, mostly to the bed covers.

“Which story shall we read while we wait for Daddy, hmm?” She offered him the tablet, but he scooted back, shaking his head fiercely. He didn’t want to touch and ruin Mummy’s expensive item.

“Would you like me to pick one?”

Sherlock nodded. He didn’t really want to let her pick, but it seemed easiest to just let it go.

“Have you heard of the ‘Octonauts’?”

Sherlock shook his head and watched her select a book about mammals who lived in an underwater lab.

Mummy turned out to be a terrific story teller, changing her voice for each different character and turning the tablet and letting Sherlock examine each picture before changing the page. He’d become so engrossed in the story that he didn’t hear Daddy come up the stairs and into the room; so he startled hard when a sharp swat caught the back of his thigh.

“Get into bed properly, its bedtime,” Daddy said, moving to the suitcase that had been set up in the corner of the room and pulling out his pajama bottoms before disappearing into the ensuite.

Sherlock scurried up the bed and under the covers next to Mummy. His eyes burned with the sudden need to cry, but pressing Daddy’s jumper over his mouth helped, the faint smell of Daddy’s cologne calming. Mummy helped too. She frowned at the bathroom door before turning back to their book and started doing the voices. It took a few moments, but Sherlock slowly got back into the story.

Daddy came back in a few moments later, sitting on the edge of the bed, his back to them as he plugged in his phone and took off his watch.

Sherlock found it hard to concentrate on the story now that Daddy was so near. Sleeping in the same bed was one of the things he’d missed most of all. He sent an apologetic glance to Mummy, but otherwise kept his eyes trained on Daddy.

 “Sherlock,” Daddy started, causing Sherlock to perk at the sound of his name, “Daddy is exhausted. If you don’t think you can lay quietly and rest tonight, I would appreciate if you went down stairs to the nursery.” Sherlock’s chest hurt. “Because if you wake me up tonight, I’m going to spank you and put you down there anyways.” Daddy finished, never once glancing at Sherlock.

Sherlock chewed his lip. He’d rather crawl through glass than sleep downstairs by himself. But if this was what daddy needed from him than he could do it. He leaned in and kissed Mummy’s cheek before scooting down and off the bed. He moved quickly out the door and down the darkened steps, not wanting to hear their heated whispering.

Sherlock made it all the way to the doorway of his room before he froze. He could feel the tears in his throat. He’d thought he could do this, but he couldn’t. The nursery looked dark and desolate after having seen the promise of the bed upstairs. A hand on the small of his back pushed him further into the nursery. Daddy stepped around him, flicking on the nightlight, creating frightening shadows on the walls.

“Come on, Pet. Let’s go,” Daddy said, turning down the covers. Sherlock swallowed heavily to keep the tears at bay before climbing into the crib and laying down. “I think this is yours.” Daddy said, dropping the jumper on his chest.  In his haste to obey Daddy he’d forgotten it upstairs.

“Thank you,” he whispered as he brought the soft material to his face. Though he was grateful to have it, it was a poor substitute for the worn t-shirt John was currently wearing.

Daddy cupped his face, his thumb stroking Sherlock’s cheek, once, twice, before he pulled away. “Goodnight, Pet.” Daddy pulled the side of the crib up. The side clicked into place like a thunderclap, causing Sherlock to jump. The tentative hold he had on his tears breaking down as Daddy pulled the nursery door nearly closed and headed back upstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come chat with me about babylock on tumblr  
> http://squeakpigsrevenge.tumblr.com


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -angsty, i have a plan. i promise.

The skin on Sherlock’s face felt itchy and tight and it was hard to suck his thumb when his nose was all gunked up from crying. The tears that had pooled in his ears felt strangely comforting.

Daddy and Mummy had given up on arguing and gone to bed, the light that came through the vent connecting their rooms had gone out ages ago. The flat had gone still and quiet. It was almost as if they weren’t there at all.

  
So this was it then.

  
If Sherlock was honest with himself, today has been absolutely awful. He’d known that this whole thing had been a shot in the dark. That the wounds had still been too raw. But when Mary had pushed them to try, it had seemed like a premonition. And against all his hard won lessons, he'd let himself hope. He really was the foolish little boy people had always claimed him to be. 

The only thing that could possibly be worse would be the morning after. When, over whatever monstrosity Mary cooked up for breakfast, John announced that he no longer wish to be Sherlock's Daddy.  Because Sherlock couldn’t fathom Daddy wanting to carry on with this. And really, even if Daddy did want to continue on, Sherlock wasn’t sure he wanted to himself. Even though there been the briefest hint of who they had been before, Sherlock knew that he couldn’t keep on like this. But he knew he wouldn’t be able to decline if Daddy offered. He’d never been able to tell John no, and never Daddy.

The only thing to be done would be to leave before such an awful conversation happened. If he wasn’t there for the conversation, he wouldn’t have to worry about being rejected, or worse, being stuck in the painful mess had been today.

  
Sighing to himself, Sherlock stood up in the crib and threw a leg over the edge. Once on the floor Sherlock tugged Daddy's jumper through the bars. Burying his face in it for a moment, he formulated a plan.

Giving the jumper one more squeeze, he quickly pulled it on over his pajamas. Every bit of it was too short, but Sherlock wouldn't have traded it for the world.

  
Out of the closet came a soft tote bag that Sherlock quickly filled with a dummy, three stuffed friends, a baggy of lego men, a plastic banana, and, mostly as an afterthought, his cell phone, wallet, and keys.

Sneaking out of his room, he stopped in the kitchen to retrieve a sippy cup of juice from the fridge, draining it quickly before shoving the cup into his bag.

On the landing he tried to cram his naked feet into Daddy’s brogues without thinking about it before huffing at himself and pulling on his trainers. Next came his scarf and coat. The Belstaff hide his jammies and his nappy. Once he was ready to go he stood perfectly still for a moment, just breathing. He’d wanted Daddy so much. Missed him so much. But clearly he couldn’t have the version of Daddy that he missed. That Daddy didn’t seem to exist anymore. And this angry Daddy was unlikely to keep him anyways.

Sparing a glance up the stairs, Sherlock bid farewell to Daddy before taking the seventeen steps down. 

This was better. It hurt. But eventually this would be what was best for everyone. Once his headspace was back online he'd tell Daddy that they could be grown-ups together and that would be it. Sherlock scrunched his face to keep from crying again. He needed to leave right this second before he crawled upstairs and begged for Daddy to care for him like he used too.

  
Within a minute Sherlock was out the front door and in the back of a cab and rolling away from 221b.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> squeakpigsrevenge.tumblr.com
> 
> I've opened babylock prompts! I'm very slow but steady.


End file.
